


Table for two

by SinpaiCasanova (Bladerunnerblue)



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Banter, Bikinis, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Boys in Skirts, Clothed Sex, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Feminization, M/M, Nipple Play, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Retirement, Rimming, Snark, Table Sex, Top Steve Rogers, White Wolf Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:21:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25156171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bladerunnerblue/pseuds/SinpaiCasanova
Summary: Bucky catches himself thinking it at least once a day since the battle for Earth in Wakanda–their last fight together–ended a little over a year ago. Though despite the passage of time and how frequently their circumstances change, like the love they share for each other, it’s the one thing that’s always maintained its truth.Retirement looks fucking good on Steve.Русский перевод
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 52
Kudos: 333





	Table for two

**Author's Note:**

> I have no excuse for this. I'll just take myself straight to horny jail.
> 
> Title came from peggysbclova ♡
> 
> Russian translation by lolicake172♡

Bucky catches himself thinking it at least once a day since the battle for Earth in Wakanda–their last fight together–ended a little over a year ago. Though despite the passage of time and how frequently their circumstances change, like the love they share for each other, it’s the one thing that’s always maintained its truth.

Retirement looks fucking good on Steve. 

His body can never quite become as soft as Bucky’s has in recent months; the serum flowing in his veins perpetually maintaining the hills and valleys of muscle that makes up the mountain of a man Steve’s become since that fateful day in 1943. But the thick retirement beard and the longer, shoulder-length hair he’s been purposely neglecting for months more than makes up for that.

If Bucky’s being honest with himself, he actually likes that their bodies are so different from each other’s now. Steve’s all hard plains and smooth muscle, practically dwarfing Bucky’s smaller, softer body in the shadow of his massive frame. It makes him feel safe, being caught up in Steve’s hold when he sidles up behind Bucky to wrap him up in those strong arms.

Bucky can’t help but sigh, leaning back into the firm touch that keeps him grounded.

Steve presses a kiss to Bucky’s temple as he holds him from behind, the touch soft and warm, gentle in a way that has his heart fluttering in his chest.

God, he loves this man.

“Thought we were headin’ down to the lake, baby doll?” Steve asks. His big hands are toying with the hem of the short, white skirt Bucky’s wearing over top of his bikini bottoms; also white with a matching top that’s just as scant as the thong. 

It’s a new development in their long relationship, but one that he and Steve have embraced whole-heartedly, and in Steve’s case, enthusiastically. 

“We are,” he murmurs, “just wanted to throw together a quick lunch before we leave.”

Steve hums quietly, watching as Bucky cuts thick slices of bread from the loaf he’d baked the previous day. And that’s another development that’s taken foot in their lives since settling down in the Wakandan countryside. 

Bucky is always cooking or baking something, and if by chance he’s not, then he’s looking up recipes for things he’ll make for them later. It’s soothing, creating different things for him and Steve–and sometimes others when their old team pops by for a visit–rather than being used as a tool to destroy, and so Bucky latches onto that comfort and holds it in a death grip close to his chest, at peace with the knowledge that his hands will never be used to mar this earth again.

Steve’s eyes are locked on the knife in Bucky’s hands, expertly cutting through the tomato on the board like it’s made out of thin air, and yet, he knows for a fact that Steve's attention is all on him. 

Bucky can feel it in the way Steve’s arms tighten around his waist, drawing him impossibly close to the solid warmth of Steve’s body. He can tell what’s on Steve’s mind from the way his breathing–hot and heavy on the back of Bucky’s neck–turns quick and shallow, how his heartbeat jumps in eager anticipation. And if Bucky weren't as in tune with Steve’s body as he’s always been, the hard line of Steve's cock pressing into the back of his thigh would have easily given his husband's intentions away.

It doesn’t matter that Steve had Bucky split open on his thick cock before Bucky even woke up properly this morning, or that he’d fucked him again in the shower not even a half-hour later. Bucky is well aware that Steve has an unapologetic, insatiable appetite for all things Bucky Barnes, has since the moment they met, but Bucky’s gotten to know the extent of it quite intimately ever since they stumbled into their awkward teenage years, and again once they’d been able to reconnect in this new century.

It might be the serum that amplifies Steve’s desire for Bucky, or it could be something that’s just woven into his very DNA since birth, but the fact remains that the fire that burns for Bucky in Steve’s soul has only gotten brighter and hotter over the years, and if it were a physical thing he could hold in his hand, it would burn right through him like molten steel.

And honestly, Bucky can't say that he's any different. He's been hopelessly devoted to Steve Rogers since he knew what love was.

Though despite all of that self-sacrificial love they have for each other, Steve Rogers is still an ornery little shit, and Bucky Barnes is just as full of sass and snark as he was before the war.

Nothing, not time nor circumstance, would ever change that. 

“What are you doing, Steve?” Bucky sighs, the sound taking on a long-suffering quality when Steve slides his big hands up under Bucky’s skirt to brush calloused fingertips over the smooth, hairless skin of his thighs. 

It’s feather-light and fleeting, teasing in a way Bucky loves to hate. He shivers minutely against his will, biting back the sound that’s clawing its way up the back of his throat that wants to beg for more. Bucky won’t beg though. He knows exactly what Steve’s doing, has since he walked his cocky ass into the kitchen, but if Steve’s that desperate to get his pretty dick wet again before lunch, then he’s gonna have to work for it a hell of a lot harder than this.

“I’m not doin’ nothin’, baby,” Steve lies. Bucky can hear the grin in his voice.

“You’re a damn lousy liar, Rogers. You’re always up to something.”

“Aw, Buck, don't be like that,” he coos, peppering little wet kisses to the long line of Bucky’s throat. “Can’t I just enjoy my guy? Everything I do doesn’t always have to have an agenda behind it.”

That’s a good one. So fucking hilarious that Bucky actually catches himself laughing at Steve’s expense, but it comes out breathy and strained once Steve’s hands latch onto the fat of his thighs and  _ squeeze. _

“There’s always an agenda with you,” Bucky chokes out, “can’t get a moment’s peace, I swear. Always gotta have somethin’ in me, huh? Fuckin’ pervert’s what you are.”

“Can you blame me? How the hell am I supposed to resist when you're dressed like this, baby?” 

Steve punctuates that rhetorical question with another firm squeeze, this time moving his hands around to paw at the curve where plump ass meets thick thighs.

Bucky nearly swallows his tongue at the little shock of pleasure and pain that zips up his spine like lightning.

“God damn, Sweetheart,” Steve softly groans, mouthing at the little spot under his ear that makes Bucky’s bare toes curl against the cold tile floor. “Fuckin’ love these thighs’a yours.” 

Oh, does Bucky know. 

He’s lost count of how many times Steve’s bent him over just to slide his fat cock in between them, fucking his thighs the same way he fucks Bucky’s ass and mouth, with unrestrained power and a single-minded focus smoldering in his eyes that should be downright terrifying to behold.

Of course, it’s not. Bucky knows Steve far too well to ever be afraid of him.

I mean, Bucky gets it. His thighs are round and plump, smooth and soft in a surprisingly feminine way, same as his hips and belly. And though he’s not really sure why, ever since Hydra got their hands on him he’s been completely devoid of any body hair. Not that he minds much. If anything, it just makes his daily routine that much easier.

Steve, on the other hand, seems to have a religious experience every time he touches Bucky.

He grips Bucky’s ass in his hands, not so much groping as he is playing; jiggling the dimpled flesh in his palms just to watch it bounce.

Bucky tries not to pay it any mind, pointedly ignoring Steve as he chops up the head of lettuce in front of him. But despite his Winter Soldier training, he can’t quite focus completely on the mundane task at hand when Steve’s toying with his ass like this.

“You’re a goddamn p-punk, you know that?” And yeah, Bucky’s struggling to keep himself composed now, mostly because Steve’s pulling his thong to the side so he can look at Bucky’s puffy, come-soaked hole again; pressing a firm hand to the middle of his back to bend him over some. 

“Ain’t you had enough of me yet?”

“Never have, never will.”

Steve says it with such conviction, such passion that Bucky isn’t quite sure how he’s supposed to react to that. But then he suddenly feels Steve’s finger sliding into his fucked out hole and all thought quickly abandons him entirely.

The knife in his hand flies from his grip, skidding right in the sink as Bucky moves his hands to hang onto the counter. Steve is surprisingly gentle though, using the leftover lube and come from last time to ease the way, and it makes something inside Bucky sigh at how filthy it feels. 

“Does it hurt?” Steve asks, concern coloring his tone despite the obvious desire shooting through his veins like a drug.

Bucky nods in lieu of saying anything that might give away how much he actually wants this too, his long hair falling into his face as his eyes flutter shut. 

Of course it hurts. Sure, Steve’s cock is a thing of beauty. Silky, uncut, long, thick, and veiny. It’s practically something torn straight out of Bucky’s wettest dream, for fuck’s sake. But it’s still a bitch to try and take all of that multiple times a day, especially since Steve has next to no refractory period and stamina that could put even the most seasoned porn star to shame.

Needless to say, with how intense the sex is at all times, Bucky has an almost Pavlovian need to start crying the moment he has Steve’s cock in him. 

Bucky hisses through his teeth as Steve slowly pulls his fingers out, and for the life of him he can’t seem to recall when Steve added the second, but he feels it now; that dull ache and stretch that works to undo what the serum tried to tighten back up. 

“H-hurts,” Bucky mewls, but he’s impatiently pushing his ass back to try and get more as he says it. Always a slut for it no matter how many times Steve bends him over. “ _ Steve _ . Stevie,  _ please!” _

“Aw, my poor, sweet baby,” Steve croons next to his ear, leaving a warm kiss to the apple of his cheek. He’s pulled his fingers completely free, leaving Bucky bereft in ways he’s not willing to analyze right now. “Let me make it all better, yeah?”

“Wha-?” Bucky manages to get out before he’s yanked upright and spun around, now facing Steve directly. He’s wearing one of those solid black button-up shirts, short-sleeved with white swimming trunks that do obscene things to his ass and thighs. He looks gorgeous, as always, His long, honey-blond hair is slicked back, thick beard immaculate, but Bucky isn’t afforded a moment to appreciate how lucky he is to have a man like Steve for a husband.

He’s promptly scooped up into Steve’s arms and carried to the marble island they fucking eat their meals on. Steve doesn’t appear to give a fuck about any of that though, because he’s plopping Bucky's ass down onto the countertop and pushing him to lie back not even a second later.

“Steve, no!” Bucky gasps, scandalized, “these are eating surfaces,”

“Yes, they are,” is all Steve says about it, and there’s a joke in there somewhere, he’s sure, but his brain can’t focus on anything else when Steve’s hands are sliding up his inner thighs to grip the waistband of his thong.

At this point, Bucky’s cock has taken a keen interest in whatever Steve’s doing, rapidly filling up and tenting the damp fabric of his bikini bottoms.

Steve quickly tugs them down Bucky’s legs, nearly burning his skin from how roughly he rips them off Bucky’s thighs. His hard cock springs free, now left to tent the skirt he’s still wearing for some reason.

Perhaps this is how Steve wants him? Or maybe he’s just too damn impatient to get Bucky naked before shoving his cock in him? Who really knows. 

His bottoms are tossed somewhere Bucky can’t really see, but nor does he give a fuck where they ended up because Steve’s got his thighs wrapped around his neck a moment later, digging his nails and teeth into the tanned flesh.

“W-what’re you doing?” Bucky stupidly asks, as if he hasn’t ever been in this position before with Steve.

“I hurt my baby,” Steve says in between deceptively gentle kisses to the insides of Bucky’s thighs, pointedly ignoring Bucky’s cock, much to his immense frustration. “I gotta kiss it all better.”

And that’s exactly what Steve does.

Well, at first he does.

Bucky sucks in a shaky breath at the first touch of warm, wet lips on his sore hole. It’s just a kiss, close-mouthed and chaste; an apology Bucky whole-heartedly accepts. But like most things involving Steve, it quickly grows in intensity, turning sweet little kisses into that deadly combination of sucking, licking, slurping that had Bucky going cross-eyed in an instant.

_ “Oh, fuck,”  _ Bucky gasps, and his flesh hand’s now tangled into Steve’s hair while the metal one grips the edge of the counter next to his head. 

_ “Oh, God!  _ Don’t you fucking stop, Stevie.” 

“I can do this-”

“You finish that fucking sentence and I'll kick you in the face.”

Steve laughs against the meat of Bucky’s ass, the bastard, but he quickly gets his ass back in gear after that, eating Bucky out like he’s a starving man and Bucky’s a four-course meal laid out on the table just for him. Which he sort of is if Bucky really thinks about it.

He's getting beard burn on his inner thighs from Steve's vigorous ministrations, but the tongue fucking into his ass is starting to give him that fuzzy, floaty feeling to the point where he just doesn't care. 

Future Bucky will be vehemently cursing Steve's name when he has to break out the aloe vera later, but present Bucky is far too wrapped up in bliss to think about what'll come after. 

All too soon Steve is pulling away, and a whine slips from Bucky’s open mouth before he can stop it. Though, with how Steve has him spread out on the countertop, skirt hiked up and hair a mess, he doubts that a whine would end up being the nail in his metaphorical coffin.

Steve knows Bucky’s a whore for dick, particularly Steve’s dick, and so there’s really no point for Bucky to keep up the pretense that he’s anything but Steve’s loyal, devoted cock slut.

There’s no shame in it, and Bucky's not giving Steve shit because he actually doesn't want any of this. Bucky’s just playing hard to get.

Steve leans down to press a few kisses to Bucky’s parted mouth, and just like before, it turns filthy in a second.

Bucky’s got him by the collar of his shirt, trying to yank it off of him in between biting kisses and failing miserably. 

“Nu-uh, sugar,” Steve chides, grinning like the cat that got the cream when Bucky whimpers pathetically in protest. “Gonna fuck that sweet ass just like this.”

“But Steve-!”

Steve cuts him off by slapping a hand over his mouth, hushing him quietly. He’s pulled open the silverware drawer with the hand that isn’t occupied, rooting through it to find...something. 

Bucky’s attention is drawn to Steve’s hand at the triumphant sound he makes, and he really shouldn’t be as surprised as he is to find Steve holding a small bottle of lube that he’d supposedly stashed in there for reasons unknown, but he is. He really is.

_ “Really?” _ Bucky huffs, voice muffled from the palm that’s still covering his mouth. Steve pulls it back just in time to hear Bucky retort, “You’re such a dirty old man.”

Steve raises an eyebrow, seemingly unimpressed with Bucky’s sudden stance of moral superiority, as if they haven’t fucked on every horizontal surface they could in this goddamn cottage at least thrice before. 

“You’re a year older than me, Buck, so what does that make you?”

“Too old to deal with your shit-”

Steve tries a different tactic in his quest to shut Bucky up, briefly succeeding when he wraps his bear paw of a hand around Bucky’s leaking cock and tugs, twisting his wrist just so on the upstroke.

It has Bucky arching off the countertop, soundlessly moaning as if it’s being torn right out of his soul. 

“You gonna behave, Buck? Or do I have to gag you again just to get some peace?” Steve asks, bestowing Bucky with the full measure of his thousand-watt, shit-eating grin as he gives Bucky’s neglected dick a few rapid-fire strokes.

“Uh-huh!” Bucky yelps in return, nodding his head quickly, ‘I-I’ll be good. Promise. Just please stick your dick in me, sweetheart. Please? I swear I’ll be sweet to you, won’t sass no more-”

Bucky’s plea is morphed into a low groan once he feels the wet, blunt head of Steve’s cock pressing insistently against his asshole. He glances down, slightly confused as to when Steve stripped his bottoms off, only to find that he actually didn’t.

Steve’s still fully clothed, as is Bucky, but while Bucky was babbling and begging, tossing his head back and writhing on the countertop, Steve had pulled down the waistband of his trunks, tugged his cock out and slicked it up. Just like that.

The waistband is tucked up underneath Steve’s balls, giving him enough freedom to fuck the living hell out of Bucky, but not much else.

_ “Fuck,  _ you’re still so tight, baby doll,” Steve breathes, sliding his hands up and down Bucky’s quivering thighs as he presses in inch by agonizing inch; gently petting his sides as he bottoms out. “Never could fuck you loose for long. But damn if I don’t love a challenge.”

Bucky shivers at the thought. Steve is hot and huge inside him, stretching Bucky to the limits and then bouldering right past them, just as he always has. And even though it’s driving Bucky to tears just to be stuffed this full of cock with no relief in sight, he fucking aches for this, craves that bone-deep burn that shoves him right to the brink of insanity.

Steve stills himself for a few precious moments, giving Bucky that much needed time to adjust before he moves, but once he does–starting out slow and steady, then building up to a pace that has Bucky wracked with pleasure so sharp it tears a scream from his lungs–Bucky knows this won’t last long for him.

Steve pulls him down by the hips so that the top of his ass is hanging off the edge of the island, shoving in his prick that much deeper as he practically folds Bucky in half; pressing his knees right into his heaving chest.

They’re lucky Steve’s as tall as he is, otherwise, the angle wouldn’t work as well as it does. It’s perfect, not quite nicking Bucky’s prostate but not outright assaulting it either. It has his eyes rolling into the back of his head, back bowed, and legs shaking. It has him choking on the air in his lungs, blinded by the tears in his eyes, deaf from the blood rushing to his head.

That floaty is getting stronger, and Bucky’s barely aware that he’s about to drop off the edge to free-fly into a cloud of ecstasy, but once his orgasm hits, it hits him like a fucking train.

_ “F-fuck!” _ Bucky screams, startled by the sudden intensity of the white-hot pleasure rushing through his veins, his hole clenching rhythmically around the pistoning cock in his ass; dick shooting spunk clear up to his chin. 

_ “Fuckfuckfuck _ –Steve!”

Bucky can barely breathe, he's so overwhelmed, torn between pushing Steve away or drawing him that much closer when the knifepoint of pleasure turns sharp and biting.

“Christ, baby,” Steve murmurs, and he sounds like he’s in awe, gazing down at Bucky with those gorgeous blue eyes as Bucky trembles through the aftershocks. “So goddamn pretty when you cry. Those tears for me, sugar? They all mine?” 

Bucky can only nod his head, far too choked up to say anything more than broken versions of Steve’s name.

He gasps wetly when Steve leans down to lick the tears from his flushed cheeks, picking up the pace to something bruising and mean once the taste of come and tears coats his greedy tongue.

Steve groans deeply, practically growling like a beast as he mercilessly chases his orgasm down. And it’s all Bucky can do just to hang on tight; his metal hand shattering the marble in its grip when Steve switches the angle up again, tearing the pleasure right out of his veins.

Steve reaches up to restlessly tug at the bikini top covering Bucky’s perfect tits, ripping it out of the way just so he can thumb at the sensitive peaks of Bucky’s nipples. 

Steve’s getting close, and if Bucky’s body worked the same way as Steve’s he’d be dangling off the precipice right along with him. 

But, again, that’s where they differ. 

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” he hears himself whimpering behind clenched teeth, swiveling his hips to meet Steve’s powerful thrusts head-on. “Fill me up, Stevie. Stuff me full.  _ Breed me till my belly’s fuckin’ thick with it!” _

He’s talking out of his ass, he knows, stringing words together just for the sake of running his mouth, but it seems to be exactly what Steve wanted to hear because his sounds become more desperate; guttural and deep. The pace turns downright torturous, the slick, snapping sound of skin striking skin ringing in his ears like a bell that never seems to end.

But then, just when Bucky thinks Steve's dick might actually break him, Steve’s hips slam home, and the first few pulses of his release begin to drench Bucky’s walls in its liquid heat; Bucky’s name hanging from his lips like a prayer all the while. It seems to last forever, Steve filling him up so much that it’s slowly starting to leak out onto the countertop when Steve finally pulls out.

Part of him wants to be disgusted, and part of him definitely is, but he cannot deny that what they just did was hands down the best sex he’s ever had. 

“You good, honey?” Steve pants into the crook of Bucky's neck, pressing a kiss the jumping pulse he feels quickening under his lips.

_ “Mmm,” _ is all he can really say at the moment, far too busy trying to get his brain back online to form any type of real conversation. 

His bones feel like jelly, the kitchen’s a biological disaster, his skirt’s stained with come, and he's pretty sure his designer bikini is trashed beyond repair, but other than that, Bucky’s a-okay. 

But how can he not be when he has such a thoughtful guy like Steve?

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you think!💜


End file.
